Ian Anderson
Puer ferox adventus
The brash North wind strikes
Upon the isle of Lindisfarne
I offer searching souls the wisdom of my years
These lessons writ in book of ages holy, past
The agony, the righteous path to
Steer between the waves
The dark abyss, tied to the mast
This sponge of pragmatic Constantine
Mops them all up and wipes them clean
It's all okay, it's all official. The Christ
Child advent here to be seen
Saturn's Solstice, Yuletide blotted
Blended in cynic innocence
Meet in Milan and host the party
Safer to sit astride the fence
What is this book? These airy pages?
Scribed and scribbled with latitude
Tallest tales for poor and needy in wide-
Eyed wonder at faith renewed
Words of gospel and redemption
Absolution if we repent
Emperor's deathbed, late salvation
Baptism in dubious testament
There's a wild child coming
There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning
Here, to an old age plan
Manic mother, her child gone missing:
Found in the temple with the elder men
Gone about His Father's business. Yeah -
But he soon goes missing once again
Ducked his head with the mad-John prophet
West bank desert doubts and fear
White magic, healing, and exorcism: got
Twelve good men - now the gang's all here
There's a wild child coming
There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning
Here, to an old age plan
Proclamation, divine seed sown
(Did he really say that thing?)
On donkey colt, calm, to the Passion, knowing
Full well what the charge must bring
The body bread, a farewell supper
Bounty silver, a kiss betrayed
Lt's a long, hard haul, that Via Dolorosa
No last contrition, quite unafraid
There's a wild child coming
There's an angry man
There's a new age dawning
Here, to an old age plan